


Trying to Find the In-Between

by deathwailart



Series: Dragon Knights [OLD] [9]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Courtship, Cultural Differences, Developing Relationship, Elves, F/F, High Fantasy, Knights - Freeform, Nymphs & Dryads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2013-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-13 08:26:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/822147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathwailart/pseuds/deathwailart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ilea decides that she and Tanis should try courting each other even if it's very much belated and learns a lot about nymphs and the customs the humans have lost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trying to Find the In-Between

When Ilea brings up the idea of courtship with Tanis, she is more than prepared for any sort of reaction from laughter to a punch in the face. The reaction she gains isn't the one she hoped for (although she knew it was foolish to hope Tanis would agree readily) but it's not hostile or a refusal. She takes it as a sign.  
  
"I see little point in this elf," Tanis says with a frown, Ilea telling herself that elf is an improvement on arrow tip and that it is said with a certain degree of fondness in much the same way Tanis calls Oran nymph. "We have lain together already, if it is your honour you seek to recover then I suspect that was besmirched before I put my hands upon you."  
  
Ilea does her best not to blush but it's difficult, especially when Tanis speaks so formally – a side effect of the elven tongue, the standard of Stjarnacado, not being her native tongue - what with recalling what she and Tanis have been up to, almost violent at the beginning, all adrenaline and hate on the part of the human knight, rough hands and mouths from both of them. A lot of blood too, not always belonging to either of them. At first Ilea had thought it was the taboo nature of it all that had made her want to lie with a human, especially a human woman. Something sordid and dirty, to push her down and remind her of her place beneath elven royalty and rule, defying her parents and all the expectations – you could have a human whore to take pleasure from but you were never meant to touch more than was necessary. Being of royal blood too and with elven births decreasing it was unseemly to want to lie with a woman until you were married and actively trying for children. Not that trying seemed to get anyone anywhere; Ilea had been the last elven birth in her whole family in ninety-eight years.  
  
"It's what we do with someone we care for Tanis," she explains patiently, "and I _do_ care for you, whether you believe me or not."  
  
Tanis snorts but when she thinks Ilea has turned away, she looks over with a softer expression, more than a little startled but it's progress. Almost painfully slow but still, progress. Across the camp, Oran offers her a grin and Ilea manages a smile back, making sure Tanis doesn't catch them.  
  
Still, she can't just spring this on Tanis who needs to be introduced to ideas gradually lest she bolt or react violently. So she waits and a few weeks later, after a long day of hiking for Oran and Tanis to gather plants for supplies (it still surprises her that parts of Tanis are not all to do with violence, that her hands and heart know healing too) she takes the fat duck Tanis has caught and plucks it. It's worth it for the look the knight gives her, fingers grasping at thin air. Tanis is a terrible cook, her food charred and blackened on the outside, raw and bloody on the inside so Oran or Ilea cook but usually, the messy parts of preparing the food fall to Tanis. The human walks off to scout the area surrounding their camp as Oran joins Ilea, twining feathers together with stray tendrils of vines.  
  
"Will you need privacy tonight?" Oran asks, not at all innocently.  
  
"Pardon?"  
  
"You never volunteer to pluck or skin or gut the game either of you catch and I might not hear as you do but you were hardly quiet, bringing up this courtship. My people don't court," the nymph continues, plucking flowers from along one arm to weave into the feathers and vine project she's working on, "and I never learned of the human customs for it."  
  
"But even if you did, you wouldn't tell me now, would you?" Ilea asks, looking up and flicking a handful of soft down into Oran's face. The nymph smirks.  
  
"It would spoil it – even if I think you're doing it backwards. Tanis was right, you _have_ lain together."  
  
Ilea can't stop herself from blushing. "That wasn't- do nymphs ever just lie together because they have the urge or when tension reaches a certain point?"  
  
"We don't reproduce that way Ilea." The way Oran says it, it's as if she's talking to a very small child and again, Ilea flushes. She doesn't know much about nymphs and knows that so many of the teachings of her home were probably very biased and she's never been able to ask about it before. She looks at Oran then, really looks at her, her slender body, the green of newly emerged leaves and the pale brown of a young sapling, flowers budding here and there, her 'hair' more like vines or strands of long grass, a darker green than her skin, with more flowers curling through it. Her skin bears the patterns of wood, whorls and knots and she knows that her skin feels very different to human flesh, rougher, less yielding. Even her eyes are different – entirely black, reflecting everything as surely as a mirror does and she knows that all wood nymphs can get what they need just from the sun should they wish it. But there's a much more obvious difference that she doesn't dwell on: where Ilea and Tanis have breasts, Oran's body is entirely flat. She goes nude, as is the way of nymphs, something Ilea found difficult at first. "I know about your cultures, strange though. Your races are very preoccupied with it aren't they? Sometimes it's surprising you get things done although you're better than the sirens. They use it as a lure. Then they eat the unlucky soul."  
  
"How do you know that?" Ilea asks, utterly aghast.  
  
"I know water nymphs who live alongside them, they bother each other little."  
  
"Well I have no plans to devour Tanis."  
  
The look Oran gives her makes her choke and she doesn't look up until the duck is fully plucked and gutted, ready to be cooked.  
  
"So will you?" Oran asks, making Ilea jump.  
  
"Will I what?"  
  
"Need privacy."  
  
"Oh! No, not tonight. Tradition wouldn't allow it – you offer to take on a task another does, it's a sign of wanting to be closer to them usually, something small that can be shared."  
  
Oran smiles and offers a handful of herbs to sprinkle on the roasted duck, her eyes flitting between Tanis and Ilea when it's finally time to eat. When Tanis thanks Ilea, she offers an encouraging grin and again, Ilea dares to hope.  
  
After a week of helping with tasks she usually doesn't, she earns several different expressions of gratitude from Tanis who goes from grudging, to accepting and then to slightly suspicious. Oran seems increasingly amused by it all, asking Ilea questions or commenting to Ilea about things, about progress, about what happens next – apparently given how different this is to the nymph culture, it's utterly fascinating to her even though her mix of blunt and teasing throws Ilea off balance more often than not.  
  
"How does it work with nymphs then?" She asks at last one night at camp and Tanis pauses from fletching arrows to look up.  
  
"We don't need to court, we don't have sex as your races do although sometimes we like to be close – we kiss, hold hands, embrace. We help to check for worms-"  
  
"Worms?" Tanis and Ilea chorus together. Ilea's glad to see that Tanis looks as shocked as she does.  
  
"Wood worms – you two can pick up parasites, so do we. It's considered a gesture of great trust to help one another with such things." Oran smiles though but she's rarely perturbed by anything they say or do. "We touch flowers to pollinate them, make tokens to wear – that's something your people do, isn't it Tanis?"  
  
"Not anymore," Tanis mutters in a way that makes it clear to ask nothing further. Ilea makes a note to remember that.  
  
"Well we do. Things we find around us – we can share information between one another with a touch."  
  
"How do you have more?" Tanis asks. It surprises Ilea given what she knows about Tanis and children but perhaps it shouldn't when she knows what it is to bring life into the world.  
  
"After the Purification where we become adults, our bodies change to become fruitful. We still flower but should we choose those flowers can then set seed. Those seeds are blessed with our magic and by the Old Mother-"  
  
"Old Mother?" Ilea interrupts.  
  
It's Tanis who answers. "The oldest of the wood nymphs who was said to be the first of them to gain thought and language and to move, giving rise to all wood nymphs when she brought the world around her to life. Now she's a great tree in the very heart of Borea."  
  
"Tanis speaks the truth. The Old Mother is the most sacred thing to us, the embodiment of all that we could ever be. However, other forests have their own Old Mother but the one in Borea is said to be the oldest."  
  
"So the Old Mother blesses your fruit?" Ilea tries to keep a straight face because this is another culture, a culture her people sought to destroy over four hundred years ago but the wording feels awkward on her tongue. Tanis makes a noise that sounds like a honking cough. She's trying not to laugh too. Oran doesn't seem offend, merely shrugging.  
  
"Yes. If she blesses them then they will grow to become nymphs, if not they will become part of the forest."  
  
"So you need no one else?"  
  
"We can reproduce alone if we choose but because bringing life into this world is a miracle, we often find another, blending our magic together, pollinating flowers – that way we have shared in something precious."  
  
Ilea smiles at that and even though she's young, even though she doesn't want to marry and have children – not yet at least and not if she would have to set Tanis aside – something in her heart constricts all the same. Her people are struggling to have children and they are all seen as a gift and with the humans, from what Tanis has shared, she knows that every child is seen as precious even if they are taught survive instead of being coddled. She wishes they could come together and share that, that they could move on to build something better.  
  
The talk moves on to what they will do next, the best route to take and as ever it's Tanis they defer to who might not know the way with confidence but who knows how to look out for danger and to pick paths with care when there might be dangers. Eventually Oran moves off to rest for a time and Tanis hands over new arrows for Ilea, much finer than those she favours herself. Archery in battle is an elven art; they have keen reflexes and sharp eyes, allowing them to be quick and deadly in combat in a way humans, nymphs or dwarves could never be. Tanis uses her arrows for hunting where she has time to hide and stalk. She thanks Tanis who nods and doesn't say 'you're welcome' because that isn't how things work in Jormsen. To Tanis it simply makes sense to save time by doing someone else's work if it's the same as hers, that sort of northern pragmatism. But Ilea always wants to make sure Tanis knows she's appreciated given the history of their people and that Ilea is a princess of Tishlen, the people who rule Tanis and the village she grew up in. Tanis only began this quest because she was ordered to and Ilea never wants to take her for granted, not now, not ever. Before Tanis would have sat away from Ilea but now she joins her by the fire once she's done sorting their packs for the morning and after a moment of silently berating herself, Ilea clears her throat and pulls out a fine silver comb from her a pocket, warm from being pressed close against her skin. Maybe it's too soon but she wants to try to make progress and nothing ventured, nothing gained.  
  
"Will you comb my hair for me?" It is a huge gamble and she knows it – Tanis does not know what the gesture means to Ilea's people, that it's something done only between those who are close.  
  
"I am not a servant," Tanis replies shortly, looking straight ahead at the fire.  
  
"Please." This isn't going correctly but that's alright, Tanis doesn't understand the elven ways beyond slavery or what little she and Ilea have managed to talk about now they're on more civil terms with one another. "I will do the same for you, if you'd like."  
  
"I don't wear braids like you."  
  
"I'm not asking you to braid it, I'm asking you to comb it out." Tanis gives her a sceptical look. "If you don't want to..."  
  
"Fine," she huffs, stalking around to kneel behind Ilea, "no complaints."  
  
"Thank you," Ilea says with a grin she can't hide as she hands over the comb, noting how Tanis takes hold of it carefully. The bindings that hold her braids in place are removed with care, Tanis tapping her on the shoulder until Ilea holds out a hand to take them.  
  
"Were they made by someone you care for?" Tanis asks as she carefully loosens Ilea's braids, combing them out with her fingers first.  
  
"The beads?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"No, they were a gift from my mother who was given them by her mother and so on, they're very old." Ilea explains as Tanis starts to comb her hair properly with surprising care and a gentle touch. She's so used to Tanis being this cold, hard person, pragmatic, devoted to her duty and who can lash out with a shocking temper as though she wants to set the world alight. More and more now she shows Ilea and Oran a softer side, little moments of vulnerability, stories of her life and her past. Tells them how she feels even if she's halting then, cutting herself off and refusing to continue. "Why do you ask?"  
  
"Something like that where I come from would be a gift between good friends – the level of detail involved or discussion of it if one lacked the skill to do it themselves."  
  
"A courtship gift?"  
  
Tanis laughs quietly, gathering Ilea's hair in one hand before running the comb through again, tugging out stubborn notes from where beads and leather ties snag the ends. "Unless you plan to have many children together or to have an open relationship, courtship is something we lost. We need to have many children to keep up our numbers." She pauses for a while, sighing and Ilea wants to turn, wants to hold her and apologise for things that happened long before either of them were born that neither of them will be able to put right easily. "Oran was right though, we made tokens before. Now it's only the old if they want to find solace with someone, at least in Jormsen."  
  
Ilea remains silent, tucking her beads in a pocket for morning, leaving her hair loose. When Tanis hands the comb back she turns, grabs her chin and kisses her, a fleeting brush of lips before she presses their foreheads together. There's a ragged exhale then Tanis pulls away to sit closer to the fire, hunched in on herself with a sword across her lap as Ilea moves to where her bedroll is. Oran's eyes find hers in the dark and she could easily read her lips or her any whispers but she rolls over onto her other side and tries to sleep until she's woken for her turn at watch. She thinks she's ruined it until the next night where Tanis comes to her, Ilea's comb in hand, plucking out beads and hair ties easily. She says not a word and Ilea says nothing either but Oran smiles at them both with a proud look in her eyes and asks casually over breakfast if they'll need privacy soon. Tanis sends a small ball of fire hurtling past Oran's ear and Ilea laughs so hard she chokes, glad that she's on the road with both of them and that she has a true friends and the promise of something more.


End file.
